


Scorch

by falindis



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abusive relationships galore, Bonk, Celegorm needs to go to Horny Jail, Celegorm tries to be a good person but ends up just making things worse, Domestic Violence, Fucked up Fëanorians, Implied past Celegorm/Oromë, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Nargothrond, Some Valinor flashbacks, The smut is in chapter 3, The world needs more Sauron/Celegorm, This was supposed to be PWP, so much fire symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falindis/pseuds/falindis
Summary: “Those who have pain inflicted on them are always bound to inflict it on another”, Gorthaur continued as Celegorm caught his breath. And although the touch had pained him it had also given him pleasure – the sick, twisted kind. “It is an unending chain, a spark that hops from one target to the next, until the flames engulf everything in their path. You cannot stop it.”In the forests of Doriath, Celegorm crosses paths with Gorthaur, the dread sorcerer of Tol Sirion. Gorthaur makes Celegorm an offer: leave the forest, and no harm will come to him. Or his brother.But Celegorm is not one to give up so easily. He soon begins to recognize that he and Gorthaur have more in common than he would care to admit.For that would require him to look back on his sins. And oh, there are many of them.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Curufin | Curufinwë, Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 28
Kudos: 40





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note on the chapter ratings: chapter 1 is gen, chapter 2 is mature, and chapter 3 explicit. So if you're here for the naughty stuff, that's not until the very end. Slow burn ahead. But oh, does Celegorm burn.

”Come, Curvo! Faster!”

The hooves of the horse thundered under Celegorm’s feet, as he gave him the spurs and urged it to a gallop beneath his feet. The summery forest flashed by, tall trees and bushes turning into a green blur in his eyes, the wind howling in his ears and sweeping at his face. Sunlight flickered through the treetops, catching in his fair hair and framing it with a golden halo. Effortlessly he guided his mount through the thick undergrowth, pass small ponds and creeks, over hill and beside stone. Beside him Huan ran, his gray fur whipping in the wind, long tongue lolling on his cheek as he panted.

“Wait up!” Curufin called from behind, and Celegorm turned to look at his brother. Curufin's long dark hair fluttered unbound, and the star of Fëanor gleamed bright on his circlet and on his breastplate. Swiftly he caught up with his brother as Celegorm slowed down. Ahead they saw a small clearing that basked in half-sunlight, and together they guided their horses there to give them pause.

“You go too fast”, Curufin complained. He dismounted and gave his horse an encouraging pat. “This is not good terrain for galloping.”

“Wrong”, Celegorm replied as he too came down, stood next to Huan and ruffled his long fur with his fingers. “You are simply too slow. It is all about the skill.”

Curufin snorted but protested no more. His eyes were fixed on the sight before them.

“A beautiful view, isn’t it?”

Celegorm nodded. They were standing on a tall precipice on the edge of a forest ravine, and beneath them the Sirion gushed mighty and blue, showering watery spray on the stones below. The roar of the river was almost deafening, accompanied only by the occasional birdcalls and rustles. There they simply stood a while, watching and listening, forgetting the world around them.

“Feels good to get out”, Celegorm said. “Nargothrond starts to feel like a prison after a while.”

“Yes”, Curufin agreed. “Our dear cousin is far too demanding. Besides, here we can get some privacy, without someone constantly stalking at our back.”

Celegorm nodded. They had few friends in Nargothrond, and even those they had they did not trust. They only had each other, as it had always been. These little excursions were their only escape, the only place where they could truly be themselves.

But Curufin had to ruin it. “We should not tarry here too long”, he stated. “I’ve heard dark rumors lately, of vile things prowling in the woods. Gorthaur’s wolves dare more south each day. We do not wish to run into them.”

Celegorm simply laughed. “You worry too much, brother. Those beasts will not dare come this far downstream. Besides, we have Huan with us. Nothing bad can happen.”

Curufin’s eyes grew dark, and for a moment he looked almost exactly like their father. “You are too brash, brother.”

“And you are a coward.”

Curufin said nothing to that. He simply drank some water, strolled back to his horse and mounted. Celegorm followed, and together they rode onward, following the Sirion up north. It was truly a pleasant day for riding – summer was almost at its end, and the weather was neither too hot nor cold. The canopy of the trees shielded from the harsh sunlight, and in the darker, thicker parts of the forest it was almost cool. Huan scouted the way upfront, his sharp nose and keen ears constantly alert. For a few hours they cantered uninterrupted, save for some short breaks to water their horses. They would race and joke and talk and simply say nothing at all, and occasionally they would bicker, the temper of the house of Fëanor burning brightly within them both.

It was amid one of those arguments that they were caught unawares. It was a meaningless fight, over some stupid thing that one of them had said, when Huan suddenly began to bark. The hound of Valinor rarely did so – even when content he mostly murmured low, or barked once before going silent. This time the barking did not stop, although Celegorm raised his hand and instructed him to quiet. On and on they bickered with Curufin, and on and on Huan barked. Until he abruptly stopped.

Celegorm prickled his ears, mouth half open in some meager riposte in this pointless battle of words. The woods had grown suddenly very quiet. It unsettled him. All the years he had spent in the woods had taught him that the forest was always full of sounds – birds cawing and chirping, small animals scuttling in the undergrowth, leaves rustling and crunching under tiny feet.

Now there were none. The small clearing they stood on was simply dead silent.

He barely had time to shout a warning, when the wolves came.

They appeared seemingly out of nowhere, flashing onto the clearing from every direction. There were at least ten of them, and all moved with an unmistakably malicious intent. The horses grew quickly restless, and for a moment all of Celegorm’s concentration went to keeping his mount still. As soon as he had settled his horse, he drew his spear, charged and stabbed. One of the wolves fell down with a growl, and another felled at Curufin’s arrow. Huan sunk his teeth on the flank of one, and the beast let out a shrill cry. Yet even as Celegorm prepared another charge he could see more wolves appearing to the clearing. They would soon be surrounded, with no means of escape.

“Curvo!” Celegorm called. “There’s too many! We need to get away from here!”

Curufin nodded. They saw a small opening in the forming ring around them, and with a kick of his heels, Celegorm guided his mount through it. Curufin and Huan followed, and then they were running, forest flashing by as they disappeared into the woods. The wolves followed, howling and snapping at their heels, some of them falling as Curufin’s arrows peppered to the ground next to them. Celegorm urged his mount forwards, deeper into the trees and through a thick bush that scratched his skin. He could hear Curufin’s voice far behind him, too far, but he could not stop, could not look back.

Celegorm took his spear and prepared to charge, but as he did so two wolves jumped at this flank, and his horse raised his hooves in panic. Celegorm tried to steady his mount with a hand, but was unable to stop the charge in time, and then he was airborne, falling, crashing onto his back. The air was punched out of his lungs in impact, and his vision went momentarily white. His spear broke with a sickening crunch, and panicked, he rolled to his side to not get trampled underfoot. The ground sloped underneath him, and he was unable to stop his roll. He coughed and spattered as he rolled further and further, tumbling through the undergrowth, barbs and needles scratching at his skin.

His roll was stopped abruptly, as he felt a rough impact in the back of his head. White light flooded his field of vision, hot pain coursed through his body.

Then, it was dark.

*

In the darkness Celegorm floated and dreamed.

“Tyelko? Tyelko? Where are you?”

Fright was etched on the younger elf’s face, as his eyes skidded across the darkening forest. His gaze did not spot Celegorm, who had perched himself up on the branch of an overarching tree.

“Tyelko?” Curufin repeated again. “Is that you?”

Silently, Celegorm dropped down from the tree and flung his hands around Curufin, covering his eyes with his hands.

“Guess who?”

Curufin frowned. “That’s not funny!”

Celegorm let him go, grinning. “It’s just a game.”

“I don’t like your games. I was afraid that you… that you…”

“That I what?” Celegorm cocked a single eyebrow. “What, Curvo?”

Curufin’s bottom lip had started to tremble. “That you had left me.”

“I didn’t leave you”, Celegorm replied, wiping the tears that ran across Curufin’s cheeks. “I could never leave you.”

Curufin flinched at the touch, but did not recoil. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

*

A sharp pain brought Celegorm back to his senses.

As he opened his eyes he saw grey. He was lying sideways in a bush of blueberries and ferns, but they seemed washed out, colorless. Although the weather had been sunny before, it was that no more. The air was thick with a grey mist, and the sky above was heavy with dark clouds, obscuring day into night. All around him was silent, besides the sound of the river.

Celegorm rose up groggily, feeling the back of his head with his hand. It came away wet with blood. A sharp rock jutted somewhere behind him, streaked with the same substance, and it was through sheer luck that he was still alive, hitting his head on something so hard.

It hurt. But he had to find Curufin.

_Where am I?_

“Curvo?” he called out. “Huan?”

There was no response. Celegorm rubbed his head and tried again. “Huan? Curvo? Where are you?”

Still no response. Celegorm cursed. “Where is that damned dog…”

A sharp gust buffeted by, and he shivered. The air seemed different here, somewhat colder. Even the smell was different – pungent. _Wrong._

A shudder ran throughout his body, and this time it was not caused by the cold. And despite it being deathly quiet, he could not quite shake the feeling that he was being watched.

“Curvo?” Celegorm asked. “Is that you?”

“Curvo is not here”, a voice replied.

Celegorm flinched, whipping his head towards the sound. He could not quite make out where it came from. “Who is there?”

Just silence. The coldness in Celegorm’s stomach spread to his knees. “Come out, whoever you are! I am not frightened of you!”

A low chuckle vibrated deep within his chest. “You should be.”

Celegorm turned around. This time when he did, he could make out a figure in the midst of the fog, not ten steps away from him. It was unmistakably a man, a tall one, with flaming red hair that whipped in the wind. He was dressed in all black – thick robes that seemed quite unfit for the summer weather. But that was not the most unsettling thing. It was his eyes. They seemed alive with flame, almost as if they gave a light of their own.

Suddenly Celegorm was very aware of his disheveled state. He crossed his hands over his chest, as if to shield himself from the stranger’s piercing gaze. “Who are you?”

The man smiled, flashing a row of too sharp teeth. “You do not recognize me?”

That is when Celegorm’s eyes settled on the emblem painted on the man’s chest. A red eye, watchful and intent.

He shivered. “Gorthaur.”

The man’s smile widened even further, although it never quite reached his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Tyelkormo.”

Celegorm flinched. “How do you know who I am?”

“Who wouldn’t recognize the famed son of Fëanor? Know thy enemy, they say.”

“And are you that? My enemy?”

“Would you like that?”

Celegorm’s hands went to his belt, fumbling for a weapon. He had lost both his bow and spear in the fall – all that was left was a tiny dagger. That would have to do. “Shut your mouth, sorcerer. What have you done with my brother?”

Gorthaur laughed. “Oh, I have done nothing. Yet. It is yourself that you should be concerned about.”

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “Say that again!”

“I have no wish to harm you”, Gorthaur replied. “Unless you wish me to.”

“You lie.”

“I do not. I simply have a request for you.”

Celegorm lifted his chin. “And what would that be?”

“These woods belong to me”, Gorthaur replied. “Leave this forest, and do not return. If you do this, I shall leave you unharmed.”

Celegorm scoffed. “These woods belong to the king.”

“The king?” Gorthaur gave a spiteful chuckle. “You may lie to yourself, but to me you may not. You could not care less for your precious Felagund.”

Celegorm tried to come up with a comeback, but found out that he could not.

“My request is simple”, Gorthaur continued. “No harm needs to come to you. Or your brother.”

Celegorm swallowed his anger. He felt like continuing, but decided not to. Gorthaur was giving him a choice. It was a rare graciousness that he could not afford to refuse.

“Will you honor this request?” Celegorm asked. “If I accept?”

“I will”, Gorthaur replied. “Go.”

Celegorm gathered his things and went. He did not look back.

He did not intend on obeying, of course. Gorthaur knew that.

And maybe a part of Celegorm knew it too.

*

It took Celegorm and hour to find Curufin. When he at last reunited with his brother, Curufin greeted him with open arms. Huan was him, as was one of their horses. Celegorm’s mount, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Tyelko”, Curufin pulled Celegorm into an embrace. “I was worried that you were gone.”

“Curvo”, Celegorm breathed into Curufin’s neck. “Are you unharmed?”

Curufin nodded, stepping back. Besides some dirt and scratches on his skin, he looked fine. “Huan managed to slay the alpha of the pack. Leaderless, the wolves scattered. What happened to you?”

“My horse panicked. I took a bad fall, lost consciousness.”

“You were gone for a while. Where were you?”

Suddenly Celegorm stalled. Although his first instinct was to tell Curufin the truth, for some reason he decided not to. Besides, he had no intent of following the sorcerer’s request. He could as well pretend that it hadn’t happened.

“Nowhere special”, Celegorm replied with a fake smile. “When I came to, I couldn’t find you anywhere because of the fog. I waited for it to dissipate before moving anywhere.”

Curufin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Fog? What fog?”

“The fog. Surely you saw it – thickest as I’ve ever seen!”

“There was no fog. At least not here.”

“Oh”, Celegorm replied with a nervous chuckle. “No matter. Let us return. I think we’ve done enough riding for the day.”

They returned to Nargothrond later that day, riding together on the remaining horse. Celegorm saw it as his duty to inform the others of the wolf attack, but he said nothing of his meeting with Gorthaur. He did not want all of Nargothrond suddenly prowling in the woods – for the moment it was his and Curufin’s safe haven. And seeing how Curufin acted after the attack, Celegorm knew he had made the right choice. His brother clung to him even tighter than he used to, not willing to leave his side. Celegorm did not wish to worry him any further.

Later that evening there was a visitor at his door. Celegorm was already half asleep when he heard the knock, its telltale soft rhythm. Still in his nightclothes, he crept to the door, opening.

Curufin stood behind it, in a scandalously thin nightgown and loose hair undone. A thin blush had spread across his cheeks, and small pearls of sweat clung to his nose and forehead like dewdrops.

He was too beautiful, and Celegorm could not stand it.

“Could I sleep with you tonight?” Curufin asked, voice rough and hoarse. “Just this once?”

Celegorm peeked his head out and looked warily around. Although there was no-one nearby, there were watchful eyes everywhere. Even if they could not see Curufin now, they could see him in the morning, creeping out of the door in nothing but his nightgown. Covering the bruises with his sleeves or the collar of his shirt, desperately trying not to wince as he took a seat in council.

“No”, Celegorm shook his head. “Not here.”

“Please, Tyelko”, Curufin begged. “I need…”

Celegorm could see the need burning in his brother’s eyes, the fearful desperation. It took every ounce of Celegorm’s willpower not to give in, to stay far enough of the flames not to get burned.

“Go back to sleep, Atarinkë.”

Celegorm just had the time to see the disappointment cloud Curufin’s eyes, before he slammed the door into his face, dousing the fire with a deathly cold.


	2. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"We all serve a higher purpose, whether we like it or not. The blood on our hands does not matter, as long as it is for the greater good. You may pretend to be holy, Turcafinwë, when truly we are not so different, you and I."_
> 
> Celegorm and Gorthaur cross paths another time. Celegorm recalls his and Curufin's past in Valinor. Rated M.

Celegorm and Curufin returned to the woods the following weekend. Still on edge from the wolf attack, they entered the forest heavier armed, with more weaponry and braver horses. The weather outside was beautiful once again, with a perfectly clear sky and slight breeze to cool from the blazing sun. The forests were blooming with life, and game was aplenty. Already during the first two hours they came across with more animals than they had done during the entirety of their last visit.

Saying a prayer to Oromë, Celegorm aimed his arrow at a large pheasant and let it fly. They cooked the bird in a fire, enjoying the taste of juicy, tender meat. The bones were later given to Huan, who chewed on them greedily. Celegorm patted the hound and settled his head against its grey fur, admiring the cloudless sky above. Curufin huddled next to him, and Celegorm closed his eyes and let himself float.

“I love you, Tyelko”, Curufin whispered into his ear then. Warm fingers roamed against bare skin, hands tightened around his waist.

Celegorm bit his lip to extinguish a creeping moan. He could not say no, even if he wanted to. A voice in his head was screaming _stop stop stop –_ but it did little to control the impulses of his body.

Curufin’s breath was hot on his neck. “I want to play a game…”

The words made Celegorm crumble, and he surrendered to the flames. Inch by torturous inch they scorched him further, burned away a part of him and transformed it into something corrupted. And amid that shower of sparks the pain inside him twisted until it became pleasure.

_You are sick._

Abruptly that voice in his head changed into another. The feeling was uncomfortable, as if a bug had crept inside his ear, and Celegorm felt himself flinch. His eyes flew open, and he rolled away from Curufin. The look of hurt on his brother’s face made his heart ache.

“Tyelko?”

But Curufin’s voice was drowned out by this sudden buzz. Celegorm shook his head to make the sound stop, but it was as if a horde of spiders was creeping between his ears, their tiny legs itching and scratching until the sensation was almost painful.

 _I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME BACK,_ a voice echoed.

A coldness washed over Celegorm’s body, as he recognized the tone. _Gorthaur._

Celegorm jumped up, searching the surroundings frantically for the source. He could see nothing, but the sensation inside his head was overwhelming. He tried to block his ears to make it go away, but it did little to help. A hiss of pain escaped between his teeth.

“Tyelko?” Curufin repeated. “Is something wrong?”

“Leave me alone!”

Curufin visibly flinched. Celegorm could not bear to look at the hurt on his face, so he turned away and ran from the glade, disappearing behind the trees.

“Tyelko!” Curufin called, his footsteps steadily approaching. “Come back!”

“Go away!”

The footsteps stopped. And although it was not Curufin Celegorm was calling out to, pain tugged at his chest. He blinked away the unwelcome tears and fell to his knees at a small creek. There he dunked his head to the water to clear his thoughts and shivered at the shock of the cold. Yet it helped – the buzzing subdued.

But when Celegorm lifted his head from the water, he noticed he was not alone.

Gorthaur stood not five steps away from him, clad in dark, fur-rimmed garb, leaning against a white tree. The tree was dead, its leaves fallen and trunk twisted and withered. The air all around seemed suddenly colder, and Celegorm shivered as he shook the water from his hair.

“We had a deal”, Gorthaur said.

Celegorm frowned. “I lied.”

To Celegorm’s surprise, Gorthaur laughed. “Well, well. Then you will not mind me breaking our agreement in return.”

“What do you mean?”

Gorthaur lifted a single hand, pinching something in between his fingers. “I have a lock of your brother’s hair. With just a bit more pressure I could make him writhe in agony.”

To prove his point, Gorthaur rubbed the lock in his fingers, and further away, Curufin grunted in discomfort. “Just imagine what I could do with a drop of his blood…”

“You will not touch him”, Celegorm growled. “Leave him alone.”

“Oh, I do not need to touch him to make it hurt.”

“If you do that, I will kill you.”

Gorthaur’s eyes flashed ominously. “You may try.”

There was a weighty silence. Celegorm stole a nervous glance over his shoulder, trying to see whether Curufin was alright, but he could hear or see nothing. As he did so, he felt the power of Gorthaur’s gaze on him, pulling, commanding him to turn back. Celegorm bit his lip to resist, but the pull grew too strong – it was as if his neck was suddenly afire. Celegorm panted heavily and gave in, turning back to face Gorthaur.

“So weak”, Gorthaur lamented, as if overcome by an incredible sadness. “I thought you had more fire within you, Tyelkormo.”

“You know nothing about me, demon”, Celegorm spat. “Hurt me or Curufin, and we will return the pain a thousand-fold.”

“Such big words. And presumptuous ones. I do not necessarily mean to hurt. There are… other ways that I can make you squirm.”

Something in Gorthaur’s tone made the hairs on Celegorm’s body stand upright. They frightened him even more than the prospect of pain.

“No?” Gorthaur asked, lips parting lewdly, hips tilted at a dangerous angle. “Then the solution is simple. Leave these forests.”

Celegorm shook his head. He let his hand find the comforting weight of his bow, drawing it slowly from behind his back. “No.”

He drew his arrow and let it fly. But where it should have met tender flesh, it simply sunk into the white tree. Gorthaur had vanished, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of smoke and a hot tingle against Celegorm’s neck.

 _Remember, Tyelkormo,_ a whisper scratched the space between his ears. _You asked for it._

*

When Celegorm returned to the campsite, he found Curufin there sitting in silence. Although Celegorm felt a worry for his brother, he could see that Curufin was unharmed – physically, at least. Thus Celegorm said nothing to him. He simply gathered his things and mounted, turning his horse back towards the way they came.

Curufin did not ask questions. He never did. He simply obeyed his brother, followed him in everything he did. It was not only until they had ridden for several leagues that Curufin dared to open his mouth, and even then his tone was quiet and wary.

“Tyelko”, he said, “is this because I—”

“No”, Celegorm replied. “It’s not your fault.”

But Curufin seemed not to hear him. “What did I do wrong? Please tell me. I’m sorry that… you didn’t like it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. To please you, brother…”

“You did nothing wrong.”

Curufin bowed his head. “Then why are you doing this? Do you not love me anymore?”

“No, Curvo. I do love you, I always will.” _Just not in the way that you need me to._ “I’m doing this to protect you.”

“From what?” Curufin’s voice was thick with hurt. “From what, Tyelko?”

Celegorm did not answer that.

“Just ride. I don’t want to spend any longer here than I have to.”

*

They did not return to the woods the following week. When Curufin asked Celegorm why, he replied with a sigh:

“I think it’s best that we stay here for a while. Besides, I’m tired. Go bother someone else.”

Hurt, Curufin went. The next day Celegorm found out that Curufin had gone riding south with Finrod, and would not be back for a few days.

Celegorm could have spent that time brooding in Nargothrond on his own, but he decided not to. He needed to go out. So he returned to Gorthaur’s woods, stealing away from Nargothrond around afternoon, with only his mount to keep him company. Even Huan he had decided to leave home. He needed to do this alone.

It was already evening when Celegorm entered the forest. Sunlight filtered through the tall trunks in long, orange streaks, drawing long shadows in their midst. Here the cicadas still chirped, birds still sung. But with every step that Celegorm took deeper a voice was suffocated, the shadows lengthening and darkening, until he was surrounded by nothing but the black and red of the dying day.

He had learned to follow Gorthaur’s signs by now. He looked to the dark spots on trees, the crinkling of leaves on crooked, thorny bushes. There was a decaying smell here, something at the borderline or ripe and rotten, both intoxicating and sickening. Twisted, white mushrooms dotted the ground beneath his feet, crawling with maggots and buzzing flies. They settled on his skin and clothes and hair, and every time he swatted one away another came and took its place.

 _Where is he?_ Celegorm found himself thinking. _He can’t hide forever._

A low chuckle resounded in his mind, and Celegorm flinched. His gaze skimmed from left to right, one shadow to another, until suddenly he felt a hot breath of air on his neck.

_Tyelkormo…_

Celegorm spun around with knife in hand, hair undone, gaze feral – but there was nothing there but darkness. He took a shuddering breath, steadying his frantic heartbeat, beginning to turn in a slow circle.

“Where are you, sorcerer?” he called. “Come hither, you coward!”

Heat washed against his skin. _I’m right here._

A shadow flashed in the corner of his eye – he felt the graze of a touch, the sharp scrape of a fingernail.

Celegorm clenched his teeth. “Enough of your games!”

The shadow moved again. Hot lips pressed against his ear; a wet tongue licked on his auricle. _But I so thought that you liked to play._

Celegorm recoiled in cold revulsion. He felt dirty all over, inside and out; it was a tingle that he could not scratch.

 _Why have you come here?_ the voice asked, further away this time.

“I…” Celegorm began, trying to find the words. Why _had_ he come here? To face Gorthaur. To stop him. But how could he do that when he could not even catch him?

He was a fool. He had come to die.

 _I read your mind, Tyelkormo,_ Gorthaur’s whisper scraped against his skull. _There is one thing that you want, and that is for me to leave you alone. I gave you an offer. Yet you refuse it, again and again, chiefly acting against it. Why would that be? It is as if… you need something from me._

“There is nothing that you could give me”, Celegorm said. “Everything that you touch is corrupted.”

Fingers brushed against him again, softer this time, a sensuous glide along his spine. The pleasure that the touch gave him was abhorrent. _Are you afraid… that I would corrupt you?_

“No.”

 _Oh._ Celegorm could _hear_ Gorthaur smile. _Indeed. It is difficult to corrupt what is already corrupted._

“You lie.”

_It is you that you lie. I know of your crimes, fair noldo, I know of your dark deeds._

Celegorm clenched his fists. “I do not regret what we did. We did it for a purpose.”

 _For the Oath._ Even the word seemed to carry a dark gloom. _I understand. We all serve a higher purpose, whether we like it or not. The blood on our hands does not matter, as long as it is for the greater good._

“Do not compare myself to you”, Celegorm spat. “You are nothing more than your master’s whore.”

Gorthaur’s laugh was like the crackle of a flame. _Oh? Have you not ever enjoyed the joys of flesh with Oromë? Everyone knows of what truly took place on his_ _‘hunts’_ , _how he rewarded his greatest students. Tell me: were you that mouthy when you choked on his cock?_

Celegorm choked now, the distant memories invoking a bitter taste in his mouth. But what was even more vile was the _arousal_ those words made him feel, the awful sensuality of Gorthaur’s tone, the way the consonants clicked on his tongue.

_You may pretend to be holy, Turcafinwë, when truly we are not so different, you and I. We both serve a Vala, in our own way._

“Morgoth is no Vala. He is but a coward and a thief, and so are you. Slinking in the shadows like a burglar in the night. Come out and face me like a man, and let us settle this once and for all!”

 _Ah,_ Gorthaur hummed in the space between Celegorm’s ears, and suddenly his hands seemed to be all over, his lips and tongue a sinful brand on each strip of exposed skin. _Wouldn’t you like that._

Gorthaur’s teeth nibbled at his ear, and Celegorm whimpered of arousal and pain.

 _No,_ Gorthaur said, over-accentuating each letter. _Sadly, we do not always get the things we want._

And then his presence was gone, like a dark veil had been lifted off the land, leaving Celegorm with nothing but his shame and the hardness between his legs.

*

**_In Valinor_ **

“Why are you crying, Tyelpe?”

Little Celebrimbor was hunched over by the balcony, his tears falling to the starlit fountain below. Far in the distance rang out two sets of unintelligible voices, arguing.

Even before Celebrimbor replied, Celegorm recognized who they belonged to.

 _“Atar_ and _ammë_ are fighting again”, the young elf said, wiping a tear off his cheek. “Why, uncle Tyelko? Why can’t they just get along?”

“Parents don’t always get along”, Celegorm replied. “At times my _atar_ and _ammë_ can barely stand each other.”

“But _why?”_

Celegorm smiled sadly. “You could say that it’s a family curse. The fire in our blood. For a relationship like that to work, fire should be met with water. But your _atar_ and _ammë_ are both fire.”

Celebrimbor sniffed. “Why did they get married, then?”

“Because fire meeting fire is not always a bad thing. When two flames like that collide, they burn unlike anything you have ever seen. There is beauty in their brightness, but danger, also. A fire like that consumes. It cannot last for long.”

“I just wish they would stop.”

“That’s the good thing about a consuming fire”, Celegorm said. “It always burns itself out.”

They stood on the balcony for a while, Celegorm simply laying his hand on Celebrimbor’s shoulder, trying to drown out the sounds of the fighting behind them. For a while it continued, until it abruptly stopped, and Celegorm sighed in relief.

“I think it’s over now”, he said.

But just as soon as the shouting had stopped it continued, louder than before. There was an audible crack of porcelain, accompanied by a high-pitched scream.

“I better go check what’s that about”, Celegorm said. “Stay, Tyelpe. Nothing can hurt you here.”

Tyelpe sank lower onto the balcony floor, burying his head in his knees.

Celegorm exited the balcony and started making his way along the hall. As he did so the screams grew progressively louder and more intelligible, until Celegorm could make out entire words. _Harlot. Bastard._ They seemed out of place in these pristine halls, covered with fancy paintings and ornate carpets. Like a beautiful picture in a broken frame.

“Are you mad, woman?” Celegorm could make out now – the yells were coming from the bedroom, at the end of the hall. Celegorm snuck further down the hallway, flattening himself against the wall, pressing his ear next to the door.

“It is you that is mad”, Curufin’s wife replied, her voice shrill with anger. “You must think that I am blind! I have seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you!”

Celegorm tried not to move, not to _breathe._ Dread coiled in his stomach as he understood what the words implied.

“He’s my _brother,_ Nárië! Do you understand what you’re accusing me of?”

Nárië laughed: a high, terrible sound. “You are a sick man, Curufinwë. You and your brother both.”

Suddenly there was scuffling behind the door, footsteps.

“Where are you going?” Curufin asked.

“To tell Tyelpe”, Nárië replied. “He deserves to know what kind of a man his father really is.”

“No you won’t”, Curufin continued, an edge of madness to his voice. “You won’t take him away from me.”

“Let me go, _do not_ touch me—”

There was a loud _slap_ and a yell, as flesh slammed against flesh. The doors next to Celegorm shuddered, and he felt himself freeze in place.

“You will know your place, wench!” Curufin shouted now. “This is my house, and in these halls, and I will not suffer accusations or threats from _you!”_

“Stop, Curufin, you are hurting me!”

From the other side Celegorm could hear clothes tearing, a muffled shriek. The steady thump of bodies against creaking wooden doors, heavy breathing and silent sobbing.

Celegorm could not listen any longer. He turned his back and went straight for the front door, not bothering to say Celebrimbor goodbye.

*

“She knows”, Curufin told Celegorm the following day.

“I know”, Celegorm replied. “I was there.”

He did not bother to lie. Celebrimbor would give him away anyway.

At those words Curufin’s face fell. “So you know—”

“You did what you had to do. She could not tell Tyelpe.”

“Yes”, Curufin nodded somberly. “Tyelpe shall never know.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“The only sensible thing. Tyelpe will come with us to Middle-Earth. Nárië will stay here.”

Although that decision should have filled Celegorm with relief, it did not do so. The only thing he felt was guilt. This was _his_ fault. He had broken their family.

“There is something good about this”, Curufin said, taking hold of Celegorm’s hand. “We can be together now.”

 _But can we, truly?_ Celegorm thought then. They had thought they were careful, but Nárië had found out nevertheless. How long would it be that the truth came to light? How would their father think of them then? Maedhros and Maglor? Caranthir, Amrod and Amras?

They would not accept them. Theirs was a fire that was not meant to last. It had kept them warm for a while, but the flames were growing too tall now. Too hot, too painful.

Celegorm let go of his brother’s hand.

“No, Curufin. I don’t think that we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also on [tumblr!](https://melkrows.tumblr.com/)


	3. Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“We are both sinners, you and I”, Gorthaur said, almost sadly, raking his fingernails upwards to caress Celegorm’s chin. “But it is not our fault. Sinners are not born – they are made. And in so doing, the sin spreads.”_
> 
> In Nargothrond, Celegorm suffers of dark dreams. He returns to the woods one last time to confront Gorthaur once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've illustrated a scene from this chapter on [tumblr!](https://melkrows.tumblr.com/post/625074951251230720/we-are-both-sinners-you-and-i-gorthaur-said)
> 
> Archive warning applies in this chapter. Rated E.

The night Celegorm returned from the woods to Nargothrond, he dreamed of Curufin.

“Tyelko…” Curufin cried, his gray eyes glossed over and red. “Tyelko stop…”

Celegorm dried Curufin’s tears, those white tracks like cracks on perfect porcelain skin. He was beautiful, too beautiful, his black hair fanned out behind him on the grass, leaves caught in its glossy sheen, his red lips swollen and glistening with blood. Blue bruises ran across bare ribs, marking him, claiming him.

_You belong to me._

“Hush, Curvo”, Celegorm panted, “please be silent. It’s just a game… you wouldn’t want _atar_ and _ammë_ to worry, would you?”

Curufin cried out silently, hissing the words behind clenched teeth. So beautiful, even like this, the tendons on his bruised neck stark and prominent. “It hurts…”

“Please don’t cry, Curvo… It hurts now, but you’ll learn to enjoy it…”

As he said those words something changed – first in the curve of Curufin’s bloodied lip, then in the swallowed cries that Celegorm tore from his throat. That gentle bend became crueler, the voice deeper, and in his eyes burned an ancient light, both beautiful and terrible.

Then there was _agony,_ it split Celegorm apart, and he was no longer taking but being taken, as Oromë’s strong arms forced him into place. Each movement was torment, a hot knife skewering his innards, as Oromë carelessly used his body as an instrument of his own pleasure.

“Endure the pain”, the Vala spoke, and the leaves of the forest shuddered, and the earth shook at his tone – “let it mold you. Let it transform you.”

Celegorm wept. But when he finally opened his eyes Oromë was no longer beneath him – this figure was smaller, leaner. Yet there was a light to his gaze, a heat to his touch, and the pain Celegorm had felt before had subdued. It was still there, perhaps even as strong as before, but part of its potency was channeled into another emotion.

And as Gorthaur softly spoke the words, Celegorm knew them to be true.

“It’ll feel good soon, Tyelkormo. I promise.”

*

Celegorm awoke hard and aching.

He peered into the darkness of the bedchamber, as if expecting someone to be there, even if that was not possible. Curufin was still gone, and no terrors of the night could pass the walls of Nagothrond, even if they made their way into his dreams.

Those voices still haunted him, those faces and those _touches._ Just thinking of them made the burn in his loins almost unbearable. He tried to roll over and fall asleep again – it was still dark outside – but the ache was too hard to ignore.

Groaning, Celegorm took himself into his hand. Even the slight touch made him shudder: it was long since he had felt this oversensitive. Closing his eyes, he began pleasuring himself in long, languid strokes, imagining a moist, warm tongue running its way along his shaft. But where he would have usually seen dark hair and grey eyes, he now saw red.

 _Tyelkormo,_ Gorthaur purred into his mind, moaning as he took Celegorm back into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks around him. _My precious Tyelkormo._

Celegorm tried to drag himself out of the vision, but he could not stop. Gorthaur’s tongue licked along a thick vein on his shaft, and Celegorm’s back arched to meet the touch. _Faster,_ he found himself thinking, and Gorthaur obeyed him, taking his entire length down and making filthy, wet sounds as he suckled him harder. It did not take long for his pleasure to reach its peak. With just a few strokes he could feel his balls tightening, his length pulse in his hands.

_Come for me, Tyelkormo._

Celegorm did. He spent himself in his enemy’s throat, and even after he opened his eyes and the vision was gone, he could see Gorthaur smile.

*

Celegorm left Nargothrond at sunrise.

The great elven kingdom was still mostly asleep when he snuck his way out of the gates together with Huan. He was better prepared this time – he did not want to be caught unawares once again.

 _I will put an end to this,_ he had decided. _Once and for all._

He entered the woods as if still in a dream. So was the landscape around him as well: sunrise glittering amid the canopy, colorful butterflies floating in spirals above small ponds of water, their wings aglow from the sparkling sunlight. It had rained last night, and the air was still moist and cool. It smelled fresh, now, nothing like the putrid stench that usually accompanied Gorthaur.

Celegorm rode his mount deeper into the woods, Huan in tow. For a while they rode, across sunlit glades and darkened corridors, with tall trees curving low from each side. Yet even among the shadowy streaks Celegorm could see patches of light, a blotch of sun amid the murk, and everywhere the forest floor was patterned by flowers, their vibrant shades like gemstones.

Celegorm began to worry – what if Gorthaur had gone? What if he would not show up after all? He would let Celegorm suffer, that was the depth of his cruelty, with these malignant images that he had conjured in the hunter’s head. Celegorm felt vile even thinking about them, as if their taint on his being was both physical as well as mental.

Perhaps Gorthaur had been right, after all. He was already corrupted.

Suddenly something among the trees seemed to catch Huan’s attention. The wolfhound lifted his ears and nose, sniffing frantically. He began to nudge at Celegorm’s mount, barking and growling, but Celegorm did not flinch. Instead, he urged his mount onwards, much to Huan’s dissatisfaction.

“I know, I know”, Celegorm tried to calm him. “I’m nervous, too. But we have to do this.”

Celegorm’s words did little to soothe the hound. The forest around them was growing thinner, suddenly – yet it seemed as dark as before. The tall leafy trees made way for twisted spruces and pines, until finally there were no trees at all – just a thin strip of barren bog surrounded by forest.

Flies were buzzing here, and a rancorous smell floated above the murky ponds. Even though the sky above was not shielded by treetops, the light here seemed somehow dimmed, as if a cover of thin clouds had settled above the forest. From behind them the sun appeared red, angry, and its rays were cold upon Celegorm’s skin.

When they reached the edge of the bog, Celegorm’s mount stopped. He tried to urge it onwards, but the horse would not go, and frustrated, Celegorm dismounted.

As soon as Celegorm’s boots hit the squelching, wet ground, Huan let out a low growl. The hound’s back was hunched, teeth bared, as he set himself protectively in front of his master.

Glowing eyes were peering towards them from the darkness of the surrounding woods. There were five pairs of them, all narrowed and yellow and _unnatural._ Huan barked louder as the pack of wolves approached the bog, stepping carefully onto the dry patches among the wet depressions. Their fur was white, teeth and claws sharp, but they were too large to be regular wolves, and something in their build and gait was different. One of the wolves looked different than the others: instead of white its fur was brown, almost red, and its eyes burned with a malice that made Celegorm shiver.

”Gorthaur”, Celegorm recognized.

_Welcome, Tyelkormo._

The other wolves made way to Gorthaur as he passed, and with each, purposeful step towards Celegorm a part of Gorthaur’s disguise fell away. With both wonder and dread Celegorm watched as the wolf in front of him transformed into the sorcerer he knew. Gorthaur wore a sable cloak over robes of red, and a crown of bones sat atop his fiery tresses. Five steps from Celegorm Gorthaur stopped, and so did his wolves.

“Your hound is badly trained”, Gorthaur said, and Huan barked in protest. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Celegorm’s fists clenched. “You are no friend of mine.”

“Enemy, then.”

Huan barked even louder. His eyes darted from one wolf to another, baring his teeth at the intruders. Gorthaur scowled at the sight, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction.

“Why have you come?” he asked.

“You cast a spell upon me”, Celegorm accused. “Undo it.”

Gorthaur did not bother lifting his gaze. “I have done no such thing.”

“Do not take me for a fool! These… vile thoughts… are some sorcery of yours. Lift the spell, or face the wrath of Nargothrond.”

Gorthaur lifted his blood-rimmed gaze of fire, and like a fly in amber, Celegorm was caught. The sorcerer regarded him with a mix of curiosity and _pity,_ like he would regard a beautiful butterfly before tearing out its wings.

“Very well.” Gorthaur’s mouth opened to speak a word in an unknown tongue, and suddenly his wolves pounced upon Huan. Celegorm jumped aside, yelling, as the hound was covered under a flurry of white fur. Growls, yelps and howls echoed on the bog – teeth and claws flashed, fur was ripped and torn.

Huan escaped the quarrel, but as soon he was caught again, and with each attack the wolves chased him further and further away from the bog.

“Huan!” Celegorm yelled, then turned to Gorthaur. “Make them stop!”

“No. My wolves will keep your hound busy for a while. I would not want them disturbing our precious moment.”

The sounds of the battle grew more and more distant, until Celegorm could neither see nor hear Huan anymore. His heart pounded and ached with worry, but there was nothing he could do. He had to trust Huan. The hound would get through this. Celegorm had a task of his own now.

Gorthaur smiled, flashing his sharp incisors. Just the sight made sparks run down Celegorm’s spine. “Now, where were we?”

“Lift the spell. Lift it, and I swear that I will never bother you again.”

“There is no spell. These thoughts of yours are entirely of your own creation.”

Celegorm shook his head. “No. _No._ I know what you are trying to do. But you cannot blame me for what has been done. You are a creature of Morgoth, and all that comes out of your mouth is lies!”

Gorthaur hummed. “So, you think you know me.”

“I know everything I need to know about you”, Celegorm spat. “You are a monster. You raped my brother.”

Gorthaur lifted a perfect, red eyebrow, and the left corner of his mouth curved in a cunning smirk.

“Poor, poor Maitimo”, he crooned softly. “What do you care of him? You have not seen him for years. He is far north, all alone, whereas you spend your days galloping around the forests with little Curufinwë. Where is he? Have you lost him?”

Celegorm blinked. “Curufin… is not here. I am not foolish enough to expose him to your enchantments.”

“Oh? This is already the second time that you visit me, alone. Interesting that you have not told him of our little… discussions. As if you do not wish to make him jealous.”

“Shut your mouth, viper.”

But Gorthaur simply continued. The bones in his crown clattered as he tilted his head, chuckling. ”Do not think that I am blind to what happens within the borders of this forest. I know of your twisted ways, your perverted desires.”

Gorthaur stepped closer, and Celegorm stood frozen as the sorcerer’s fingernails stroked his arm.

“Don’t touch me”, Celegorm grated.

Gorthaur’s touch seemed infused with flame, sparks dancing between the point where skin met skin. 

“But that is what Curvo said, did he not?” Gorthaur spoke, leaning closer until his lips almost touched Celegorm’s ear. “He begged you to stop, and yet you continued. You continued until he learned to love it. That is how _insatiable_ you are _,_ Tyelkormo.”

Gorthaur’s teeth nibbled at his ear, and Celegorm gasped as he felt himself harden at the touch. He cursed this traitorous body, begged for it to move, to speak, to do _anything,_ but he could simply stand still as Gorthaur devoured him with his gaze.

“Tell me… do you think of him even now?” Gorthaur asked. “Or is this, too, one of my lies?”

Celegorm tried to protest, but the words did not come. The hate he had felt had now twisted into desire and shame, shacking him to the ground like a sinking weight.

Gorthaur was right. It _was_ Celegorm’s fault. He had done this. He had broken Curufin, broken his family. Ripped his son apart from his mother. And although Celebrimbor had been too young to understand, he never truly forgot. Nor forgave.

“We are both sinners, you and I”, Gorthaur said, almost sadly, raking his fingernails upwards to caress Celegorm’s chin. “But it is not our fault. Sinners are not born – they are made. And in so doing, the sin spreads.”

Gorthaur’s hand grasped Celegorm’s neck, a tightening crunch, and Celegorm writhed, gasped for breath, until his lungs burned and vision filled with white. But just as he thought he was going to pass out Gorthaur loosened his grip, caressing the bruises that were already starting to form.

“Those who have pain inflicted on them are always bound to inflict it on another”, Gorthaur continued as Celegorm caught his breath. And although the touch had pained him it had also given him _pleasure –_ the sick, twisted kind. “It is an unending chain, a spark that hops from one target to the next, until the flames engulf everything in their path. You cannot stop it.”

Celegorm gasped as Gorthaur’s hand moved to his chin, twisting it upwards to look him straight in the eye. That same, corrupted fire burned in the sorcerer’s eyes, and Celegorm could simply surrender as Gorthaur’s lips came closer and clashed against his.

It was a violent kiss, consuming, Gorthaur’s hot breath washing over his face, pointed tongue licking at his own. Celegorm tasted ash and fire, and pleasure washed down his spine in hot, cleansing waves.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Gorthaur whispered in between the kisses, toppling Celegorm over onto a patch of dry moss and forcing a knee between the hunter’s thighs. “Absolution? For someone to pardon you for your crimes?”

The sorcerer’s claws tore into Celegorm’s clothes, exposed his chest and his aching hardness. He spoke an enchantment, and like crumbling ash his clothes dissipated into the wind, save for his crown of bone.

Gorthaur’s smile was dangerously sharp as he leaned over, pinched his teeth around a nipple and bit until he drew blood. Celegorm grinded into the touch, and with bloodied lips Gorthaur extinguished his moan. The sorcerer lapped at his tongue for a moment, claiming his prey, then swiftly replaced his lips with his fingers. Fervently, Celegorm began to suck on them, until he felt drool drip from the corners of his mouth and roll down his neck. Gorthaur pulled his fingers out then, moving them to Celegorm’s entrance and prodding it with a sharp fingernail.

“Or is it punishment that you require?” Gorthaur mused, toying with the ring of muscle, “to be reminded of the pain. To learn from it.”

Celegorm howled as Gorthaur’s finger violently breached his entrance, with nothing but spit to aid the way. Callously Gorthaur inserted another finger, and another, forcing Celegorm apart without care for his pleasure. Celegorm cried out, feeling Gorthaur’s cock prod at his entrance and then push inside to the hilt, beginning a series of harsh, punishing thrusts, each more agonizing than the last.

Yet even as the pain scourged him from the inside, he felt want course through him, his cock aching and leaking at each thrust and pull. Helplessly Celegorm lied on his back, legs spread wide and arms pinned down as Gorthaur mounted him. The sorcerer moaned too: a throaty, sinful sound, as sinful as each rock of his hips and bat of his eyelashes, as decadent as the sheen of sweat on pale skin and the red lock caught on a parted lower lip.

“Tyelkormo”, Gorthaur drawled, his eyes burning with an unearthly fire. “Wicked, naughty Tyelkormo…”

Celegorm cried out at a particularly brutal thrust, and he felt something inside him tear. His lips were moving as if telling Gorthaur to stop, but no sound came out but sobbing. He closed his eyes and turned his head aside, trying to imagine Curufin’s smile and the softness of his touch, but he could not. His whole world was consumed by Gorthaur, the heat of their combined flames.

“My Tyelkormo, my own, _my precious…”_

Gorthaur rocked his hips one final time, and then he came, spilling inside Celegorm, the pulses of hot and bitter seed filling him to the brim and mingling with his blood. There was stinging, prickling pain as Gorthaur pulled out, cleaning himself and leaving Celegorm unsatisfied, his cock still twitching and craving for touch.

“No…” Celegorm wept, “please…”

Gorthaur’s touch on his skin was soft, comforting even.

“Do not weep, precious”, he said, “the path to absolution is a trial by fire. Fire scorches, but it also cleanses. Purifies. You must let the flames forge you, to sear away the corruption. For only in the hottest furnace does fire burn at its purest.”

Slowly Gorthaur’s fingers ghosted away, wiping away a trail of tears as they went. Like sparks in the wind they disappeared, until the sorcerer was gone entirely.

That was the last time that Celegorm saw him. But never in his entire life did Gorthaur’s words leave his thoughts, and from that day hence, each time Curufin touched him with the hands that Celegorm himself had corrupted, he did not see black hair or grey eyes, but red locks and a gaze that burned with the same dark fire that Celegorm recognized in himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked, I would love a kudos or comment. ♥


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